Blake

It had been stupid, so impossibly stupid, to open her damned mouth and speak to the werewolf.

But it had been three weeks of silence, plus the days she'd spent in this cell before he started coming regularly and the days that she'd been unconscious as they'd used freaking warlock magic to fix her.

The first word had just...slipped out. It was like she hadn't even given her mouth permission to speak when she was suddenly talking and having a conversation with the monster. The conversation hadn't even done anything to abate her curiosity.

If you died, I would die too.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Blake thumped her head against the wall and closed her eyes, replaying the conversation in her head. Listening again for false notes in the voice, shifty eyes, fidgeting – anything that might indicate the werewolf was lying and that he did know about the murders.

Because when she had told him, it had been shock that darted across his face. Not the mask of composed calm he would have worn if he'd known.

And for some reason, she believed that he hadn't known. Even if she had told him that she didn't.

Not like it mattered if she believed him or not, or if he knew about the murders or not. There would be no leaving this place, no going home to Josh who'd now lost everything, including hope in her return. He would have held out for a couple of weeks until it was clear that she was gone.

A small part of her wondered if he would feel it when they did kill her. If that sibling bond would somehow inform him that she was well and truly dead. Though that wolf had said he wouldn't kill her, she didn't really think that was true.

If you died, I would die too If you died, I would die too If you died, I would die too

There was no answer she could fathom for why her life would matter so much to one werewolf. But even if she knew the answer, it wouldn't matter. They were murderers, monsters, creatures of the moon...

It didn't matter if one of them had a soft spot. It wouldn't change how she saw him. Red, niceties aside, was a monster.

No amount of books given or soft words spoken would change that. It was in his genetics.

And that was something that could never be changed.

*~*

Blake was left alone with her thoughts for four days. Red didn't come back to her cell and she wondered if something had happened to him or if he was gone. Weeks of his companionship had begun to take their toll and while she wasn't fond of him – not by any means – she found that she'd grown used to seeing his face and hearing his voice every day. It was like clockwork.

Instead, it was another woman who came to Blake's cell every day to give her food and water. She wouldn't have touched it, just to test the theory about what these wolves would or wouldn't do to keep her alive, but with the sustenance, the werewolf brought a book and Blake had known that it was a signal, a command really, from Red that he was still around. Still watching.

The female werewolf, who called herself Monroe, was leggy and blonde with eyes as blue as the ocean. A few times, she tried to engage Blake in conversation, chattering on about some television show she was watching – apparently, werewolves liked Project Runway – and celebrities that everyone thought were human but weren't.

Christopher Walken was a vampire, which surprised her.

Keanu Reeves was a warlock, which didn't. No one who looked like him could possibly have done it without immortal magical intervention.

"—and honestly," Monroe told her on the fourth day. She was examining her nails. "You don't think that half the people on reality television deserve to be there, right? I mean, it has to be demon intervention on some level."

Blake couldn't refute that. She knew of more than a few cases where demons had played a vital role in taking someone from an unknown to a superstar virtually overnight.

After thirty minutes of Blake refusing to answer, Monroe had sighed deeply. "For the record, you should feel honoured that I'm here talking with you. I mean, I don't waste my time on just anyone. I'm the Beta. I've got more important things to do than have a one-sided conversation with a dumb human who refuses to reply. Just say one thing."

Blake almost said 'No' just for spite. She held her tongue as she flicked her eyes up towards Monroe and pointedly turned a page in her book.

Monroe had snorted, eyes alight with something akin to amusement, but left shortly after that. Alone, Blake went through the rest of her daily routine which consisted of eating the food, drinking the water, and doing her best to exercise within the confines of her cell. And when she had done all that and her body was tired from pure exhaustion, she read Jules Verne and Tolkien after she finished Great Expectations to pass the time.

On the fifth day, just as Blake was beginning the final chapter of The Hobbit, the door to her cell opened. She raised her gaze and saw that it was Red who entered, not Monroe. Somehow, that was a relief.

Her eyes traced him – the strong, steady frame that seemed a bit weary. His dark hair was unkempt, dishevelled in the back. And his eyes...the green was darkened with heavy shadows.

Blake stared at him for less than half a second before she was back to her book, looking at the words but not really reading them. Waiting to see if he would leave or speak.

He chose the latter.

"You were right." Red slid to the floor, his back against the door, and draped his arms across his knees. He hung his head and closed his eyes. "You were right about everything. I was hoping that your people had been misreading the signs, that it wasn't a werewolf attacking humans, but it is.

"And then I hoped that it would just be rogues. They tend to pass through the big cities now and again. Most of them are nomads or they like to pretend that they're human if they don't want to live in a pack. I thought I could prove that it was different rogues acting alone. I wanted to convince you that it isn't us – that you've got the wrong werewolves – but all of those people, a dozen people, were killed the same way."

Blake swallowed at the rawness in his voice. The pain and sorrow. She didn't think that werewolves felt sorrow like that – not for humans, at least.

"Did you read those cases?" Red asked, cutting into her train of thought. "Or did someone tell you about how those people were killed?"

It didn't seem like a terrible admission of information to say, "I was informed about them. But that was enough for me because I've hunted monsters before and from what I was told, the monsters, in this case, need to be put down."

"I agree."

That surprised her. Blake blinked. "What?"

Red's eyes were hard and with the bleakness, they looked near-black. "Whoever is killing humans is from my pack. You were right. But I swear to you, it's not me. My Alpha had no idea it was happening either. This morning, I showed him the file I've been putting together and he was just as appalled when he saw the evidence that I've found. He's ordered me to find out what's going on here. I want you to know that I will."

For some stupid reason, she believed him. Still, just in case, she murmured, "You shouldn't make promises that you can't keep."

"I am keeping this one."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you on that? What happens when you find out who it is and it's one of your friends, Red? When they tell you that I – a human – manipulated you into turning on your own people? That's how they'll all see it, right? You've been coming in here, day-after-day, to speak with me. Your pack will argue that humans and werewolves can't coexist. The next time I see you will be with your teeth against my throat the second before you rip it out."

A snarl so fierce ripped through the small cell. Blake would have cringed against the wall had she not expected it, not seen the way that his face rippled just slightly, becoming a little less human-like.

The wolf slipping through.

Just as she'd known it would. Red wasn't on her side. This werewolf didn't really give a shit about her in the long term. He was playing nice now – pretending that he cared about the dead people she'd come here to avenge – so that he could extract information before killing her.

Blake scowled, brows drawing low over her eyes. "Told you. There are those teeth coming out."

"I will never hurt you. You are safe with me. I promise."

"No offence, wolfie, but that promise doesn't really carry much weight in my book. Besides, even if I did believe that you were going to keep me alive, I'm sure that there are still a lot of people in this place who would love to see me dead. One of them, it appears, is already feeling pretty murderous. You really think that I believe that you'd protect me against them?"

"I would."

"Then you're much stupider than you look. Because even if you agreed to protect me, Red, and I can't see why you would do that, it would only last for so long. This place, your pack, isn't safe for a human. And one day, Red, you're not going to be able to protect me from a monster that would love to put me in the ground."

Blake picked up her book again, not allowing herself to look at him as he stood and knocked on the door and left without glancing back.